You may be familiar with my relationship with peanut butter. It's probably the most tumultuous relationship of my life, actually. I love it way too much, in all its many forms...creamy, crunchy, extra crunchy, in sandwiches, on toast, on crackers, as an ice cream flavor, in any form Reeses deems acceptable, it don't matter. No good can come of my prolonged exposure to peanut butter. Whenever I would buy it I'd tell myself, it's protein, it's all natural, it's made from peanuts, for cryin out loud, and even the low-carbers can eat peanuts! But then I proceed to eat peanut butter for every meal of the day, simply because it's in my possession and I LOVE IT. It just doesn't matter if it's reduced fat if you go through a jar in under a week. So I've restricted myself to only having it when I'm staying at my parents' house, which is not often. Good, right? Until I get to my beloved Whole Foods today and I'm wandering the aisles in the innocent pursuit of that honey in the plastic teddy bear bottle. AND THEN, as I'm looking at the list of stuff that's in every aisle, you know, that sign that says: water, pasta, pretzels, etc...I see the words Peanut Butter Machine.
I actually gasped out loud. I heard myself. Then I went to find said machine. People, it was glorious. It was this big, crazy-looking thing with jars of different kinds of peanuts. That's right, it wasn't just a peanut butter machine; it was a MAKE YOUR OWN peanut butter machine. I gasped again. Audibly. Then I realized I required back-up. Suddenly I became a frantic cell phone user.
Me: I have a huge problem.
Me: I'm at Whole Foods and there's a peanut butter machine.
Mark: There's a what?
Me: A peanut butter machine. A machine that makes peanut butter!
Mark: You need to just keep walking.
Me: No. I want to use it!
Mark: Keep walking!
Me: I can't!
Mark: Oh, fuck. Can I call you right back?
Me: No! I need help!
Mark: I'll call you right back.
Me: I HAVE A HUGE PROBLEM.
Me: I'm at Whole Foods and there's a peanut butter machine!
Jen: Of course there is.
Me: You've seen this?
Jen: Yeah, I've been using it since I was like eight.
Me: You knew about this and didn't tell me?
Jen: Yeah, it's no big deal! Just buy a little!
Me: You are not a good friend right now.
Other Jen: Hi, it's Jen, please leave a message and I'll call you back.
Me: I don't care that you have a job and that you're at it right now and so you're not answering your cell phone. I'm at Whole Foods and they have a PEANUT BUTTER MACHINE AND IT'S RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND NO ONE CAN HELP ME. Call me.
I shook off the bad karma by not giving in to the peanut butter machine and by allowing Whole Foods to inspire me in other ways, which led to my making lemon garlic chicken, rice pilaf, and glazed carrots* for Jen and I. So I'm still without the PB, but at least I'm making a stab at domesticity.
*Until today, I was not aware that one could glaze a carrot.